"All I could discover was that the man Milsom had taken the child to London by a certain coach. I went to the inn from which that particular coach always starts; and here, after much trouble and delay, I was lucky enough to see the guard. From him I derived some valuable information; or perhaps, I ought to say some information that I think may turn up trumps. He perfectly remembered the man Milsom by my description of him, I having got the description from old Mother Brimstone; and he remembered the child, because of her crying a deal, and the passengers pitying her, and being pleased with her pretty looks, and trying to comfort her, and so on. The guard himself took a deal of notice of the child, and thought the man was not much good; and when they got to London, he felt curious like, he said, to know where the two would go, and what would become of them."
"And did he find out?" gasped Lady Eversleigh.
"As good luck would have it, he did. The man got into a hackney-coach, and the guard heard the driver tell him to go to Ratcliff Highway—that was all."
"Then I will find him," exclaimed Honoria, with feverish excitement. "I know the place well—too well! I will go with you to London, Mr. Larkspur, and I myself will help you to find my treasure."
In the extremity of her excitement she was reckless what secrets she betrayed. She had but one thought, one consideration, and that to her was life or death.
"Don't question me," she said to Captain Copplestone, who stared at her in amazement; "my girlhood was spent in a den of thieves—my womanhood has been one long struggle against pitiless enemies. I will fight bravely to the last. And now, in this most bitter trial of my life, the experience of my miserable youth shall serve in the contest with that villain."
She would brook no delay; she would explain nothing.
"Do not question me," she repeated. "You have counselled me to trust in the experience of Mr. Larkspur, and I will confide myself to his wisdom; but I must and will accompany him in his search for my child. Let a post-chaise be ordered immediately. Can you dispense with rest, and take a hurried dinner before you start, Mr. Larkspur?" she added, turning to her ally.
"Dispense with rest? Bless your innocent heart, my lady, I don't know the meaning of rest when I'm in business; and as for dinner, a ham sandwich and a glass of brandy out of a pocket-pistol is as much as I ask for when my blood's up." "You shall be richly rewarded for your exertions."
"Thank you kindly, ma'am. The promise of a reward is very encouraging, of course; but, upon my word, my heart's more in this business than it ever was before in anything under a murder; and I feel as if it was in me to do wonders."